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To Mr. JOHN MOORE,
AUTHOR of the celebrated WORM-POWDER.
OW much, egregious Moore, are we
Whate'er we think, whate'er we fee,
All Humankind are Worms.
Man is a very Worm by birth,
Vile, reptile, weak, and vain!
A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then fhrinks to earth again.
That Woman is a Worm, we find
E'er fince our Grandame's evil; She first convers'd with her own kind, That ancient Worm, the Devil.
The learn'd themselves we Book-worms name,
The Blockhead is a Slow-worm;
The Nymph whofe tail is all on flame,
Is aptly term'd a Glow-worm :
The Fops are painted Butterflies,
That flutter for a day;
First from a Worm they take their rise,
And in a Worm decay.
The Flatterer an Earwig grows;
Thus Worms fuit all conditions;
Mifers are Muck-worms, Silk-worms Beaus,
And Death-watches Phyficians.
That Statesmen have the Worm, is feen
By all their winding play;
Their Confcience is a Worm within,
That gnaws them night and day.
Ah Moore! thy skill were well employ'd,
And greater gain would rise,
If thou couldft make the Courtier void
The Worm that never dies!
O learned Friend of Abchurch-lane,
Who fett'ft our entrails free;
Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,
Since Worms fhall eat ev'n thee.
Our Fate thou only canft adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
Ev'n Button's Wits to Worms shall turn,
Who Maggots were before.
SONG, by a Perfon of Quality..
Written in the Year 1733.
LUTTERING fpread thy purple Pinions,,
Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart;
I a Slave in thy Dominions;
Nature must give way to Art.
Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your Flocks,
See my weary Days confuming,
All beneath yon flowery Rocks.
Thus the Cyprian Goddefs weeping,
Mourn'd Adonis, darling Youth;
Him the Boar, in Silence creeping,
Gor'd with unrelenting Tooth.
Cynthia, tune harmonious Numbers;
Fair Discretion, ftring the Lyre;
Sooth my ever-waking Slumbers:
Bright Apollo, lend thy Choir.
Gloomy Pluto, King of Terrors,
Arm'd in adamantine Chains,
Lead me to the Crystal Mirrors,
Watering foft Elysian Plains.
Mournful Cypress, verdant Willow,
Gilding my Aurelia's Brows,
Morpheus hovering o'er my Pillow,
Hear me pay my dying vows.
Melancholy fmooth Mæander,
Swiftly purling in a Round,
On thy Margin Lovers wander,
With thy flowery Chaplets crown'd.
Thus when Philomela drooping,
Softly feeks her filent Mate,
See the Bird of Juno stooping;
Melody refigns to Fate.
ON A CERTAIN LADY AT. COURT.
Know the thing that's most uncommon;
(Envy be filent, and attend!)
I know a reasonable Woman,
Handfome and witty, yet a Friend.
Not warp'd by Paffion, aw'd by Rumour;
Not grave through Pride, nor gay through Folly; An equal Mixture of Good-humour,
And fenfible foft Melancholy.
"Has fhe no faults then, (Envy fays) Sir?"
Yes, fhe has one, I muft aver:
When all the World confpires to praise her,
The Woman's deaf, and does not hear.
On his GROTTO at Twickenham,
MARBLE, SPARS, GEMS, ORES, and MINERALS.
HOU who fhalt stop, where Thames' translucent
Shines a broad Mirrour through the shadowy Cave;
Where lingering drops from mineral Roofs diftil,
And pointed Crystals break the sparkling Rill,
Unpolish'd Gems no Ray on Pride bestow,
And latent Metals innocently glow;
Approach. Great NATURE ftudiously behold!
the Mine without a wifh for Gold.
Approach: but awful! Lo! th' Ægerian Grott,
Where, nobly penfive, ST. JOHN fat and thought; 10
Where British fighs from dying WYNDHAM ftole,
And the bright flame was shot through MARCHMONT'S
Let fuch, fuch only, tread this facred Floor,
Who dare to love their Country, and be